


Awakening

by LostinFic



Series: Mercier x Betty oneshots [6]
Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Teninch Fic, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wartime lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> For timepetalsprompts: "Back in time"
> 
> Inspired by this: “It was not just the risk of death that made this first sexual revolution possible. The blackout offered anonymity and excitement. The arrival of foreigners — coinciding with the departure of husbands — offered hitherto unheard-of temptation, while the evacuation of children left mothers suddenly free from their parental responsibilities and with unexpected time on their hands.”

She’d never known this kind of emptiness. Paralyzing in the possibilities it offered. She had the house to herself. No husband. No son. No one to clean up after or prepare a meal for but herself.

She’d never known this kind of fulfillment. The numbness of pleasure. This was theirs only. Never to be revealed. Only to be dreamed. A memory to dust off and polish, to keep on the shelf for rainy days. A face like crystalware, sharp lines and bright eyes. Beautiful. Fragile too, she discovered.

 The sirens blared, and she feared he wouldn’t come more than she feared the bombs dropping from the sky. He slipped in through the back door. Radar kisses. Finding each other in the dark, finding the swell of a quickening pulse, finding fragrant dips and greedy lips.

“Ma belle.” A voice, a word that danced on her skin, that slickened her thighs.

Clothes were picked off. One item after the other, discarded to the ground.  _He loves me. He loves me not._

He carried her in his arms, laid her on the bed. His palms followed the curves of her body from hips to throat, encompassing, proprietary. His mouth followed the same path, arousing kisses that made her cells burst with life.

They locked hands, fingers finding their slots. Under the weight of his body, she felt lighter than ever.

“Ready?”

She arched her hips.

Wrapped in each other, they found a different kind of shelter.

She loved the bones of him, the unevenness, all the spots to hold on to. Their moans and laboured breath covered the noisy Luftwaffe.

There was laughter too.

She didn’t know it could be like this.

The urgency receded, their movements turned languid, stretching time and pleasure. The ebb and flow of bodies. Let this last forever. Let the war never end. This was peace.

She pushed him on his back, straddled his hips like he’d taught her. He smiled proudly. She teased, reveling in her power. In his frown of frustration, in his parted lips. She loved him with her spine. She chased the sparks and the bliss. The pleasure only he could give her. That only she could take from him. And it flooded her veins, her mind.

“Again.”

“Oui.”

Let the bombs drop. Let the world come to an end. May she never go back to her hundred-year slumber.


End file.
